Month: June 2017

I was in a room filled with stars, which led to an endless hallway lined with sparkly, shimmery doors. At first I thought I was in the hall of akashic records, but then my invisible guide said to me, telepathically, “no, child, it is not history you will find behind those doors, but possibility.”

I then understood that each door opened into a different reality. I became instantly filled with a kind of overwhelming excitement that I hadn’t felt since my childhood. The doorways were infinite. The possibilities were infinite.

My imagination ran wild envisioning all the magical and mysterious worlds I could discover. Would there be benevolent creatures beyond anything dreamt up in the movies? Would there be fantastical alien landscapes with pink skies and purple clouds you could float around on? Which door would lead me to utopia?

I couldn’t contain myself any longer, and threw open the first door on my right. I was sucked, (quite literally, as if being vacuumed up) into its reality, and a moment later I ‘woke up’ in my childhood bed. Before I even opened my eyes, I knew who and where I was, and instantly felt disappointed with the familiarity of my surroundings.

I was 10, living in a shitty outer-suburbs duplex with my mother, and she was very angry with me for reasons I couldn’t tell. Everything seemed to be normal, except for two things: one, my stepfather was nowhere to be seen, and two, we had moved out of that particular house when i was 8. It then hit me; in this reality, my mum never met my stepdad, we never moved, and my brother was never born. That ain’t cool, I thought, and closed my eyes and willed myself back to the room of stars.﻿

I experiemented with a few doors in close proximity, and quickly found, to my dismay, that they all led to slightly modified versions of my predominant reality. In one version, my grandparents had died early in my life, leaving my mother and I a sizeable inheritance. So we had money and an increased quality of life, but the abscence of my grandparents left a large void in our family unit. In another version, I stayed in my hometown, married my high school boyfriend and had three kids by the time I was 21.

After going through several doors and versions of my life, I became frustrated by the lack of diversity in my human experience. “How many doors do I have to open until I find a completely different reality, seperate to myself?” I shouted in desperation to my unembodied guide. “I don’t want just another version of my own reality, I want to experience a new reality!” I wanted a new family and body and ancestry and personality and desires. I wanted to experience life as someone else. “But, child,” said my guide, “that is the whole point of being alive, of being a person, of having an individual and unique human experience.”

“What do you mean? What is the point?”

“When our eternal being decides to separate from source to become embodied and live out a human life, we do so because it gives us the opportunity to manifest and materialize our infinite possibility.” I still wasn’t getting it. “So why can’t I explore some of that infinite possibility?”

“Because for this life cycle, you’ve chosen this body and this path. You chose this one specifically for a reason. You need to fully explore all the potential of this particular life… before moving on to another.”

I got it. It finally made sense. I still wasn’t thrilled about it, but I understood why I was confined to this body and it’s variant realities. I needed to remember my original life intent and make the steps to restore my path before I could even think about moving on. Prior to this moment, I’d been stuck in inaction; my guide showing me this room was her way of giving me a gentle nudge, a friendly reminder of all the potential I was squandering and all the possibilities of this human life.﻿

Remember that movie from the early 2000s, ‘I Heart Huckabees’? The main character, played by Jason Schwartzman, is curious about the constant coincidences in his life, so he hires a unorthodox duo of detectives help him figure out what they could mean.
At the time, I found the premise pretentious and confusing, but right about now, I totally get it, for my own life has begun to resemble a Wes Anderson movie, albeit without the helpful existential investigators and dreamy pastel hues.

So in the spirit of attempting to make sense of them myself, here are some examples of the synchcronicities I’ve experienced lately.

NUMBERS
At work, I’m a busy person. I’m rarely idle and I don’t clock-watch, but still, almost every single day, I find myself looking at time at 11.11, 1.11 and 3.33. Usually, those times are the ONLY three times I’ve checked my watch. In fact it’s so common that if I happen to miss one, like the other day when I checked my phone at precisely 11.12, it feels like something is off.

RUMI POEM

A few months back, I was listening to a psychology podcast on my 45min commute to work, as I am apt to do. The topic was mindfulness, a concept I’m reasonably familiar with, and the segment closed with the guest speaker providing a quote by the poet Rumi, who’s work I am also reasonably familiar with. This, however, was a poem I had never heard, called ‘The Guest House’. For those unacquainted with this particular piece, here it is:

It is a lovely poem and I enjoyed hearing it, although to be honest I didn’t give it much more thought once my drive was over.

One of my daily work duties is selecting the store’s music playlist, and that day I randomly put the latest Coldplay album into the rotation. Now it is important to note that I have never heard this album, nor had much inclination to as I’m not a huge fan of the band (although I did admittedly enjoy a few of their earlier songs). I don’t know what inspired me to choose it that day, but I did, and around 1pm it started playing in the store.

A few songs in, while performing duties out on the floor, I was stopped in my tracks. The music had ceased for a spoken word interlude, which in itself is not remarkable, but the words themselves gave me goosebumps. “This being human is a guest house,” a booming, authoritive voice declared. “Each day a new arrival.” Its recited in its entirety, and I later found out that Chris Martin discovered the poem while going through his divorce and loved it so much he decided to feature it on his album.

ENTROPY IS UNAVOIDABLE
Earlier this week, after finishing work for the day, I was sitting on the couch scrolling through Facebook. I came across this meme:

Like most memes, it provided a feeble chuckle and I swiftly moved on. The only line that stood out was ‘entropy is unavoidable’ as I didn’t really know what that meant but didn’t care enough to look into it further.

About an hour later my boyfriend and I settled in to watch an episode of ‘Animals’, an absurd but hilarious cartoon on the comedy channel we’d just gotten into. In this particular episode, the band 311 guest star, and in one scene the main character is singing one of their songs lyrics back to them: “You can’t stop entropy so why even try, observe the conscious flow and don’t mystify.”

So the message I’m getting is that entropy is unavoidable and you can’t stop entropy. Now I just need to figure out what ‘entropy’ actually fucking means.

SPECK OF DUST

Two nights ago, my boyfriend wanted to watch the aforementioned Sarah Silverman stand-up on Netflix. One of the bits in her routine included a monologue on the insignificance of individual human life in the grand scheme of the universe, likening us to a mere ‘speck of dust’.

After the special was over, we retired to bed with an old episode of ‘The Office’. Just as I was drifting off, I heard Michael Scott’s character justifying calling a staff meeting to talk about the planets. “Because it’s a big universe,” he says to Jim. “And we’re all just tiny little specks of dust.”

So there we have it- numbers, a 16th century poem, an unusual phrase and a common quote. Some patterns I can see from listing these are that every time, the synchronicity has occurred within the same day, sometimes within hours. It’s always delivered via seperate and unrelated mediums, i.e.: educational podcast and music cd, Facebook and cartoon, stand up comedy and scripted television. Beyond that, I’m not sure. I’ll guess I’ll just continue to list them as they occur and see if more patterns emerge.

Is my subconscious trying to tell me something? Is my higher self attempting to communicate through various mediums? Am I reading too much into it? Are they all just stupid coincidences and I maybe smoke too much weed? Who knows. I wish I had Jason Schwartzman’s number.